Cynophobia
by Lyris Malachi
Summary: Why is Breda afraid of dogs?
1. Cards and Alcohol

Gray clouds drizzled over East City, just enough to keep all but the determined indoors. Tired from the paperwork he had let pile up, Breda looked for a place to unwind and have a beer. Maybe find a woman as well. He went farther than usual, not wanting to drink in one of the many near the base. He wanted to get away from work and that meant avoiding soldiers if possible.

The interior of the bar was warm and cozy, as the fireplace actually had a fire burning in it that night. The rain had really cooled everything down. He found a vacant seat at the bar itself and ordered a beer. The woman smiled at him as she poured from the tap and winked as she placed the mug in front of him. Being in uniform definitely had its advantages.

"What are you doing here?" a voice thundered.

Breda yipped and leapt to his feet, spilling half of his drink over his arm and the bar. He whirled and saw Havoc doubled over from laughter. "What the hell is your problem?" he exclaimed.

"Sorry!" Havoc wheezed between fits of laughter. "I couldn't resist it." He wiped tears from his eyes and straightened, holding his stomach. "Just clocked out, eh? You're really noticeable. Why don't you come join me and the boys?" he asked, gesturing behind him.

"Yeah. Sure." He turned back to the bar and the woman was placing a refilled mug on the bar.

"There ya go, hon," she said with another wink. He made a mental note to get her phone number before he left. Thanking her, he grabbed it and followed Havoc across the floor to a table near the back.

One of the officers pulled up a chair and the men sat down. Havoc withdrew his pack of cigarettes and offered them to the rest of them before taking one himself.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Breda asked after taking a long drink. "I thought you had a date."

Havoc shrugged and drank from his own glass. Hard liquor of some sort. "Stood me up. She'd better not be out with the Colonel." One of the men, Pierce, chuckled. Havoc glared at him. "Just wait until it happens to you."

"So why are you afraid of dogs?" Renalds asked.

Breda grimaced and glared at Havoc. The lieutenant shrugged as if to say that he hadn't said a word. "I'm not drunk enough to tell _that_ story."

"Then what are you doing drink that?" Pierce asked. He gestured for a server. "Bring this man something strong."

"I don't plan on getting that drunk," Breda said.

"The hard ones are on me," he said.

Breda shuddered. "That's a memory I'd like to forget."

Belle picked up the deck of cards beside his drink. "We were about to start another hand. You in?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Havoc grinned around his cigarette. "Great. I get to clean you out too."

Pierce chuckled. "The evening's young. We'll win it back."

"You haven't so far."

"Money in the pot," Renalds said and the men tossed cash on the center of the table. Belle dealt the first hand and the men quieted down, each concentrating on his poker face.

After several hands, Havoc found himself richer, leaving the others to grumble about rotten luck. They paused for another round of drinks—their third since they began their game—and Havoc pulled out another cigarette, offering the pack to the other men. He scrawled something on a bill and handed it to the waitress.

"A tip for your excellent service," he said, grinning at her.

"Thank you," she said and giggled.

Pierce rolled his eyes and Havoc chuckled. "Jealous that you didn't think of it first?" He turned his eyes to Breda. "What do you say, Lieutenant?"

"About what?"

"I'm really curious about the dog story. How about a wager—three card draw? If I win, you tell us why you're afraid of dogs. If you win, no one here will ask you about it again."

"I don't think so."

Havoc held up a wad of bills. "I'll toss this in too. If you win of course."

Breda stared at the money; Havoc had won nearly everything on him that night. "Half the fold if I win, the entire stack if you do. And I get to shuffle."

"Deal," he said with a grin. "But if you cheat, you tell us the story and get no money."

Sighing, he took the deck of cards. This was the last time he played any sort of game against Havoc. He cut the deck and folded the halves together again before bridging it. The other three watched eagerly. Damn vultures.

"Aces high," he announced, his fingers expertly shuffling the cards. It had been a while since he actually shuffled, but was pleased to see that his fingers still knew what to do. He dealt the cards alternately and face-down. Finishing, he set the rest of the deck in the center of the table and cautiously bent the corner of his cards as if afraid a bomb had been planted beneath one.

"Show 'em," Havoc announced.

Breda flipped his over, proudly displaying a King, a Queen and a nine. "Beat that!" he announced gleefully.

"With pleasure," Havoc said, insufferable grin firmly planted on his face. Breda's jaw dropped. Two Aces and a King. "So how about it, Breda?"

He lifted his drink—rum, he thought—to his mouth and finished it in two gulps. It burned all the way down and he immediately felt his slight buzz grow. No way to get out of it now.

"Fine, I'll tell you. But you guys have to _swear_ you won't repeat it to anyone, especially not the Colonel."

There was a chorus of "I swear," and Breda heaved a sigh.

"When I was eight…"


	2. A Swarm of Puppies

"Heymans, Beata, could you two come in here for a moment," Martina called.

Heymans rushed from his room, determined to beat Beata downstairs. She was at the top step and rushing down the stairs before he reached the end of the hallway. Damn it! He slapped his hand over his mouth, afraid he had cursed out loud. If Mother heard that, she'd wash his mouth out with soap for sure. After he was certain she hadn't heard his thoughts with her mother senses she claimed she had, he darted down the stairs after Beata.

"Ha! Beat you! You're slower than a snail, Heymans!" Beata, two years younger, gloated.

"I bet my fist isn't slower than a snail!"

"Mama!" Beata cried, running into the den. He chased after her.

"Heymans, Beata, stop fighting!" Gregor ordered from behind his newspaper.

"Yes, Father," both children chorused.

Heymas took a seat on one end of the sofa while Beata sat at the other. He glared at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. He opened his mouth to say something mean to her, but Gregor shook a wrinkle out of the newspaper and neatly folded the section.

"Your mother has something she wants to tell you," he announced gravely. "Dear!"

"I'll be right there." They sat in silence until Martina returned from the kitchen, flour on her apron and a smear on her jaw. Heymans sniffed the air, but didn't smell any desserts baking. Maybe it was for tomorrow.

"Go ahead, honey."

"Thank you, sweetheart." She smiled at him and Heymans wanted to make gagging motions. He hated it when his parents got all mushy. She turned to her children. "You two have been fighting a lot lately. Your father and I decided that it was time you learned responsibility and how to get along."

"You're not making us weed again, are you?" Heymans blurted. Last summer had been horrible—his hands felt like they were constantly covered in scratches and dirt and the sun had been merciless.

"Don't interrupt your mother."

"Yes, Father."

When he had settled down again, Martina smiled. "No, you're not weeding again, although I do expect a certain amount of cooperation. A friend of your father's has a dog that recently had puppies."

"We're getting one?" Beata exclaimed.

Their mother nodded. "But you two have to brush him and feed him and make sure he has plenty of exercise."

"Oh, we will!" Heymans exclaimed happily. "When are we getting one?"

"Your father told Mister Christianson that we would go to his farm on Saturday. Do you two think you can behave until then?" They nodded. "Good. Now wash up for dinner."

They rushed to the bathroom, both fighting for a place at the sink. "I think we should name him Killer," Heymans said, lathering the soap on his hands.

"Don't be silly. We're gonna get a girl and we're gonna call her Princess."

"Yuck! That's a terrible dog's name!"

"Killer's worse."

"Is not!"

"Is—"

"Dinner's ready!"

"Coming!" they said in unison and raced to the dinner table.

* * *

Heymans craned his neck, trying to look at the entire farm at once. "You have horses?" he asked excitedly.

Adam nodded. "Three of them. Maybe when you get older you can go riding sometime. With your parents' permission, of course."

"Mother?" he asked hopefully.

"We'll talk about it later."

"They're Great Dane-St. Bernard puppies, so they're going to grow up to be pretty big. Do you think you can handle that?" Adam asked.

He nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Are there a lot of puppies?" It was the first thing Beata had said the entire afternoon. She felt shy around the tall farmer and clung to her mother's hand the entire time.

"Six of them. All very healthy."

"Six? That's a lot! How come you don't have that many babies, Mama?"

Before Martina could think of a suitable answer, Heymans pointed to the barn. "Hey, Mister Christianson, is the door open?"

"Yeah. Why don't you two go take a look at the puppies."

"Race you!" he cried and took off running.

"No fair!" Beata cried, but she chased after him anyway.

Heymans beat her through the open barn door. There were several puppies playing on the floor and several others just outside the barn. The bitch—Breda laughed silently at a naughty word being used for a mother dog—had given birth in an unused horse stall, but now she watched her young from outside of it. She growled as the children ran up.

"Hush, girl," Adam said and she immediately lowered her head.

"I like this one!" Beata cried, picking up a black one with a white spot on its chest.

"I like this one," Heymans countered, picking up a brown puppy.

"Why don't you play with them for a while?" Adam suggested. "Maggie won't bother you." The adults moved to stand outside and have their own conversation.

Heymans petted as many puppies as he could, scratching their bellies when they rolled over. He giggled. It was too bad they couldn't take all of them home! He picked up another one and hugged it as it squirmed in his arms, trying to lick his chin. Its tongue was soft and wet. He'd have to ask Mister Christianson which ones were boys and which ones were girls.

"Hey, quit hogging the puppies!" Beata exclaimed.

With a start, Heymans realized that the puppies were surrounding him. One nipped at his fingers and he snatched his hand back. "Go away. Shoo!" He tried to nudge them away, but they crowded around him, sniffing him.

"Stop that!" He pushed one away with his foot and the puppy grabbed a shoestring, untying his shoe. Another began chewing on the toe of the same shoe and he tried to push them away before they did the same to his other foot.

He stood up and a zealous puppy leapt up, wagging its tail and whining. He pushed it down and it leaped up again, this time sliding down his legs as it tried to keep its balance. Its short nails dragged down the tender flesh of his shins.

Tears of pain stung Heymans' eyes and he tried backing away, but they followed. Beata was no help as she stood there giggling at him. He tried running away, but stepped on one, causing it to yelp. He stumbled and fell and they leapt at him, certain he wanted to play. He covered his face and they nipped at his ears, yipping excitedly. He moved his hands to his ears and started to cry, afraid they were going to bite his neck. They began to lick his face, leaving trails of saliva in the place of his tears.

Strong arms snatched him up. "It's okay." His father's voice. "They just wanted to play."

"They—they hurt me!" he wailed.

"Shh. Come on, let's go back to the car."

"Can we still get a puppy?" Beata asked.

"Not right now," Martina said. "I'm awfully sorry about this, Adam."

"No, I should apologize. I should have watched them more closely. Will it be okay if I stop by later to apologize to Heymans?"

"If he's up to it."

"All right. I'm really, very sorry."

* * *

His family was asleep, but Heymans couldn't sleep. He kept on feeling those puppies around him. He shuddered. They wouldn't go away, even though he told them too. He didn't understand what was wrong—James' dog down the street would leave him alone if he told it to.

The door swung open and he pulled his blanket over his head. They had gotten a dog anyway! He waited to hear that barking again. Would it jump on the bed? Would it bite him again?

"Heymans?"

He slowly lowered the blanket. "Beata?"

"Can I come in?"

"Yes," he said cautiously. She was being polite.

She sat down on his bed. "I'm sorry I just laughed at you. Mama said it must have been scary for you."

"It was." He fought back tears. "Are they getting a dog?"

She shook her head. "Not unless it's all right with you. Is it all right?" She looked at him hopefully.

He shook his head. "No! I hate dogs!"

Now she burst into tears. "I hate you, Heymans Breda!" she exclaimed and ran out of the room.


	3. Epilogue

Breda finished with a sigh of relief and finished his new drink in several large gulps. He hadn't seen the server bring it, but then, he didn't care. It calmed his nerves enough for him to look at the men sitting around the table. He silently dared them to comment.

"Puppies swarming you?" Belle asked. "Sounds pretty scary." Breda couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Havoc tossed him the roll of money. "Here ya go. You earned it. Another hand?"

Renalds finished his drink and tossed money on the table in front of him before standing. "I can't. If I don't get home soon, the missus'll have my head." With a nod, he left the bar.

The remaining men played two more hands before Pierce and Belle gave up as well. "If we keep playing, you'll own our houses too," the former said.

"Good night," Belle said. "You'll have to give us a chance to win it all back."

"Of course," Havoc said with a grin, taking out another cigarette. He turned to Breda. "What do you say?"

"No way. I'd end up confessing everything to you. Besides, it's getting late."

Havoc shrugged and removed the cigarette long enough to finish his drink. He gathered his winnings and left a large tip for the waitress. On their way out, he winked at the woman, causing her to giggle again. Breda looked around for the barkeeper, but she was gone. Damn his luck.

Outside, the rain had cleared up, leaving behind a thick cloud cover. Havoc snuffed the butt of his cigarette under his heel.

"I didn't know you had a sister. She still mad at you?"

He shook his head. "We made up and we get along fine now."

"Is she hot?"

Breda turned to the first lieutenant, jaw dropping. "She's my sister!"

"So that's a no?"

"I'm not discussing my sister's attractiveness with you!" He stormed off into the night.

"Good night, Lieutenant!" Havoc called. Breda threw a curse over his shoulder and Havoc chuckled as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes.


End file.
